


Treaty

by theinsandoutsofcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Reader, F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsandoutsofcastiel/pseuds/theinsandoutsofcastiel
Summary: Castiel and Crowley create a pact to end the fighting between Heaven and Hell, but the pact requires something the Reader didn’t expect.





	1. Chapter 1

Warnings: None that I can think of, no smut in this part

Fic:

The treaty between Heaven and Hell had been in the works for months. Castiel and Crowley had banded together and were trying to find a way to end the fighting between the two worlds. You were one of Castiel’s trusted advisors on the matter and you’d traveled to Hell with him on several occasions. This brought you into contact with the King of Hell more times than you had ever wanted to meet the man. 

Crowley was sickeningly charming and something about him sent shivers down your spine. Maybe it was the way he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. Castiel seemed to notice this as well and he did his best to keep you at a distance from the demon.

You stand impatiently in the hallway, just outside a conference room in Heaven. Castiel and Crowley were inside, putting the final touches on the treaty before they would finally sign it. One of Crowley’s minions stands across from you, looking as nervous to as you’d ever seen a demon. You couldn’t blame him, he was standing in Heaven with an angel right in front of him.

“Y/N,” Castiel says, bringing you out of your thoughts as he cracks the door slightly, “May I speak with you?”

“Of course, what is it, brother?” you ask. Cas motions for you to enter the conference room. He shuts the door behind you as you enter.

“Hello, Darling,” Crowley greets you.

“Crowley,” you answer with a curt nod. He sits in his chair with all the confidence of a man who ruled Heaven rather than a man out of place.

“There has been one final adjustment to the treaty,” Castiel informs you.

“Which is?” you press.

“An exchange of hostages,” Castiel answers.

“No, no, no,” Crowley interrupts, “Not hostages. We bloody well went through this. She wouldn’t be my hostage, she’d be my mate.”

“What?” you question in shock, not quite understanding what was happening.

“Crowley and I decided that in order to further cement the pact between Heaven and Hell, bonding should occur,” Castiel explains, “I would bond to a demon, who would live here. Meanwhile, an angel would bond to Crowley.”

“An angel would be condemned to Hell,” you summarize.

“It’s not that bad, Love,” Crowley assures you, “I’ve done quite a bit of renovation since I’ve become King.”

“You’re not helping,” Castiel hisses at the demon. Castiel turns his attention back to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I know this is a lot to ask of you and I would understand if you refuse,” Castiel continues, “This is not a demand, but rather a request. I need someone that I can trust to bond with Crowley, someone who will honor the terms of the treaty and uphold the union between Heaven and Hell. Sister, if you are unwilling to take on this burden, I understand, but if you accept, I would be forever grateful; Heaven would be forever grateful.”

By becoming Crowley’s bonded, you’d be condemning yourself to a life in Hell. It might even count as a fall from grace. At the same time, by accepting this offer, you would be helping to bring peace between Heaven and Hell. You’d also be saving another one of your brothers or sisters from suffering the same fate.

You flick your eyes toward the demon, who was still lounging in his chair and watching the scene between you and your brother. He raises an eyebrow as if to question you. Standing up straight, you look back to Castiel. “I accept,” you tell him.

“Thank you, sister,” Castiel says, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You awkwardly hug him back, still unused to the human custom.

“Then it appears we have a deal,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers to make a pen appear. He scratches the pen across the paper in front of him, signing his name with a flourish. “Your turn, Feathers,” Crowley says, holding the pen out toward Castiel, “Sign here and the treaty is finalized.”

Castiel releases you and moves to stand beside Crowley. “You’re sure about this?” Castiel asks before signing.

“If it’s for the good of Heaven, then yes,” you answer. Cas nods before signing his name below Crowley’s. “When must I leave?” you ask.

“When you’re ready, Love,” Crowley answers, “Take what time you need to say your goodbyes. Feathers here knows my number, he’ll call me to come and get you when you’re ready.”

***

Days passed. You said your goodbyes and tried to prepare yourself as best as you could to live out the rest of eternity in Hell, bonded to a demon. Crowley wouldn’t wait forever, you knew that, but you tried to waste as much time as you could.

Heaven had already received its prisoner, a demon named Meg. You wondered if she’d agreed to live out her life here with Castiel of if Crowley had forced her into the arrangement. Crowley had never painted himself as a benevolent ruler and you could only imagine what sort of mate he would be. Perhaps entering this agreement had been a mistake.

Finally, the day came when you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. Crowley was bound to be impatient by this point, not that you assumed he had much patience to begin with. You stand near Castiel, playing nervously with the zipper of your jacket as Castiel speaks with Crowley on the phone.

It wasn’t long before Crowley was standing right in front of you. “Hello, Love,” he says with a warm smile. You couldn’t imagine the smile was genuine.

“Hello, Crowley,” you answer nervously, keeping your gaze on the floor. He takes a step closer reaching out as if to touch your cheek, but thinking better of it.

“You’re nervous,” he says as if it were a revelation to you, “I can see that, but you have nothing to fear from me. I will never hurt you and I will never ask anything of you which you aren’t willing to give.” You didn’t believe that, not when the words were coming from the lips of something so evil. It was a show being put on for the benefit of your brother, you were sure of it. “If I ever do anything to displease you, you have my permission to smite me,” Crowley adds, clearly trying to pull a laugh from you. It doesn’t work.

“I’m ready to leave,” you inform him.

“Very well,” Crowley says. He extends his hand to you, but you don’t take it. Instead, you turn to your brother, hugging him tight.

“Goodbye, Castiel,” you sob, heartbroken not only by the thought of leaving Heaven, but also by the separation from your family that you would have to endure.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Castiel assures you softly, “It’s only until we meet again.” You try to steady yourself as you pull away, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Turning back to Crowley, you slip your hand into his. He looks at you with what you’d almost consider sadness in his eyes as he reaches up with his free hand to gently wipe a tear from your cheek. “I’m ready,” you repeat. Crowley smiles slightly before snapping his fingers, taking you to your new home in Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: AAAHHH! I love Crowley and Treaty was amazing. Plz write more!! AND Please write a second part to treaty, the world needs more Crowley fics and I can already feel the tension that’s going to be between him and the reader.

Warnings: Bonding, cutting your palm (in association with bonding), arguing, nudity, but still no smut (sorry!)

Fic:

“Welcome home, Love,” Crowley welcomes you. Looking around, you see nothing but a large mansion set atop a vast wasteland and a sky the color of blood.

“This isn’t my home,” you protest, pulling your hand sharply out of his, “This will never be my home; it’s nothing more than a prison.”

“I had rather hoped -” Crowley begins.

“I don’t care what you hoped,” you say coldly, “The only purpose of my being here is to act as a prisoner in order to uphold the treaty. Don’t for one second think that I will ever be happy to live here with you.”

Crowley looked as if you’d just slapped him right across the face. You knew you should have had better manners toward your host and captor. He was the King of Hell and the man you’d be bonding to after all, and getting on his bad side would only make things worse for you. Even so, you couldn’t help how you felt. If you were being honest, you hated this demon; because of him, you’d lost both your family and your home. You wanted to do nothing more than smite him where he stands, but you do everything in your power to restrain yourself. The promise you made to Castiel ran through your mind, helping to keep you in control. There’s a long silence, but Crowley finally breaks it.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Crowley says with a hint of sadness in his tone, but no anger that you can detect, “This was meant to be your home, but I understand how you feel.”

“Do you?” you ask him, still angry.

“I know what you think of me, but I understand more than you know,” Crowley says as he turns away from you and heads toward the front door of the mansion, “I’ll do everything I can to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.” He leaves you standing on your own, black dust swirling around your feet. There’s nothing you can do but follow him.

***

Crowley had given you free reign of the mansion, but you were forbidden from leaving it. He said it was for your own protection, but you felt differently. In your mind, you were being confined, not protected. The only people you had any contact with were demons, monsters you were determined to despise from the second you saw them. They were friendly enough, for demons, but you knew their only purpose in spending time with you was to aid Crowley in keeping you confined.

For the most part, you spent your days on your own. Crowley had brought you a television and a stack of books to pass the time, but you found yourself mostly sitting and doing nothing but thinking. You wondered how things had changed in Heaven since the treaty had been signed, how Castiel had been dealing with bonding to a demon. Thankfully, Crowley hadn’t forced you into bonding with him, but you knew it had to be done soon. Castiel had chosen you for this mission because he knew you would uphold the treaty between Heaven and Hell. You had made your brother a promise and you would keep it, even if it meant signing eternity away to the King of Hell.

The only time you spent with Crowley was during dinner. You didn’t understand why he requested you attend such events; you couldn’t taste the food anyway. The meals were always spent in silence as you pushed the food around your plate, wishing you were somewhere else. Tonight’s meal was like all the rest. You sit with your elbow on the table, chin resting in your hand as you poke your mashed potatoes with your fork. As always, Crowley sits across from you, seemingly enjoying his meal.

The longer you spent in Hell, the more anxious you became to fulfill your promise to Castiel. The treaty depended on an angel bonding to Crowley and if you didn’t fulfill that promise soon, Crowley may decide to break the treaty off all together. Your heart races as you try to work up the courage to break the silence.

“When will it happen?” you ask softly.

Crowley stops eating and places his utensils on the table to either side of his plate. “When will what happen, Love?” Crowley asks for clarification.

“Bonding,” you answer with a single word.

“When you’re ready,” Crowley answers, “As I’ve said before, I won’t force you to do anything you’re not willing to do.”

“Then I’m ready,” you tell him, “Castiel has already held up his end of the treaty, it’s time you do so as well.”

“It’s all about duty and honor with you angels, isn’t it?” Crowley asks.

“You say it as if those things aren’t important,” you challenge.

“I never said that,” Crowley shrugs, “But there are more important things.”

“Such as?” you press.

“Maybe an angel wouldn’t understand,” Crowley sighs. You narrow your eyes at him, slightly irritated by his response. When you first brought up the subject, you expected him to be happy that he was finally getting what he was promised by the treaty, but his flippant attitude pointed toward something else. Maybe this treaty was just as much a prison for him as it was for you. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Crowley asks.

“Yes,” you answer shortly, “We could bond right now if you wish.” Grabbing your knife, you bring it to your palm.

“No!” Crowley shouts, “Don’t do that!” He grabs your wrist and pries the knife from your hand.

“Why not?” you protest, “This is how bonding is done.”

“Not over the dinner table like this,” Crowley says gently, “There should be a ceremony at least.”

“Why bother?” you ask, “Bonding is bonding whether or not there are spectators.”

“I want my demons to see,” Crowley explains, “They need to know that I plan on upholding the treaty I signed and that despite what some of them want, I will not break it.”

“Fine,” you agree, “Set up your ceremony.”

***

It took less time than you expected for Crowley to pull together the ceremony he wanted. You sit in a chair in front of a mirror, watching as a demon styles your hair. She chatters away, obviously excited by the ceremony that was about to happen. Her name was Marion and she was one of the demons you had spent the most time with since arriving in Hell. Something about her always interested you. Despite the fact that you were an angel and she a demon, she never seemed to mind. Maybe it was all fake, but she always acted as your friend.

When your hair and makeup are finished, Marion helps you put on the dress that Crowley had requested you wear. It was black silk with red flowers embroidered down the puffy skirt. The top is a corset, so tight you feel as if you could barely breathe. Marion helps you with the jewelry, beautiful rubies glinting from silver settings.

“You look beautiful,” Marion compliments as she fluffs out your skirt and examines her work, “Our King will be pleased.”

“Your King, you mean,” you correct her. Crowley was no king of yours.

“Of course,” Marion agrees, “He’ll be your husband, I suppose . . .Well, let’s go. I’m sure there’ll be Hell to pay if we’re late.”

“Is Crowley kind to you?” you ask her as you both make your way down the hall toward the throne room. Marion looks shocked by your question.

“I suppose,” she answers, “Kind enough for a demon anyway. As long as I do as he asks and not mess things up too badly, there’s not a problem.”

“But if you were to make a mistake, would he punish you?” you question.

“Definitely,” she answers, “And I suppose I should thank you for not trying to escape while I’m around. He’d kill me if something happened to you while I was supposed to be watching you.” You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you continue to walk in silence until you reach the doors of the throne room. “Are you ready?” Marion asks you. She waits for you to nod before opening the doors.

Your heart races as you enter the throne room. High ranking demons are lined up on either side of the room, creating an aisle for you to walk down, Crowley waits at the end. He’s dressed in a black suit, a red carnation pinned to the left lapel of his jacket. You’d never felt a feeling like the one you felt as you walk toward the front of the room; nervousness the humans would call it. If Crowley was feeling the same feelings as you, he internalized them well.

Crowley extends his hand to you and you tentatively slip your hand into his. “You look beautiful,” Crowley compliments as you move to stand before him. A table stands to your left, a knife sitting upon it, the blade glinting in the candlelight. Pulling your hand from his, you make sure to stand a respectable distance from him. The hem of your dress just barely brushes the toes of his shoes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking down to the floor.

“Are you ready, Love?” Crowley asks.

“Yes,” you answer, looking back up at him, trying to appear brave though you felt anything but, “Are you?” Crowley gives you a gentle smile and a nod, encouraging you to begin the bonding process.

You begin the ceremony, chanting in Enochian. Crowley stands silently. If he were an angel, he would be chanting along with you, but being a demon, you supposed he didn’t know any better. You can feel the demons watching you and you wondered what thoughts were going through their heads. You reach for the knife on the table beside you. As you chant, you reach for Crowley’s left hand and bring the silver blade to his palm. He doesn’t even flinch as you cut his skin. Instead of blood, red smoke leaks from the wound.

Continuing to chant, you bring the blade to the palm of your own left hand and cut through the skin in the same way. The white light of you grace shines bright through the wound. Crowley waits for you to give him further instruction. Normally, you would have placed your hand in Crowley’s allowing your grace and his tortured soul to mingle, but since you had an audience, you decide to make things a little more dramatic.

Taking his left wrist in your right hand, you encourage him to hold his hand in the air in front of him. You hold your left hand in the air in front of Crowley’s hand, just a few inches separating his palm from yours. Some of the spectators gasp as your grace begins seeping from your hand, red smoke seeping from Crowley’s. The two substances twist and mix in the space between your hands, creating a soft pink, shimmering smoke. With the final words of the ceremony, the mixture of Crowley’s tainted soul and your grace seeps back into the wounds and they close, leaving only scars to indicate that the bonding ever occurred.

“Is that it?” you hear a demon mumble, “Are we really supposed to follow this angelic bitch?” Apparently, Crowley hears the comment as well and he isn’t at all pleased about it.

Turning on the crowd, he snaps his fingers and the demon who had just been talking instantly vaporizes. “No one speaks about my Queen like that, ever!” Crowley shouts angrily, “The bonding is complete and the treaty between Heaven and Hell is sealed. If any demon tries to break that treaty, or tries to harm my Queen, they will have me to answer to, is that understood?”

“Yes, your majesty,” is the answer that fills the room.

“Good, now get out,” Crowley demands. The demons follow instructions, quickly leaving the room. When the door shuts, Crowley finally seems to calm. “I apologize,” Crowley tells you, “You don’t deserve to be spoken about like that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, “But what you said about bonding is incorrect. The bonding process isn’t complete.”

“Then what do we have to do?” Crowley asks you. You feel it’s best to show rather than tell. Closing the distance between the two of you, you press your lips to his. Crowley seems taken aback at first, but he soon eases into the kiss. His arm slips around your waist, his other hand moving to up the nape of your neck. You expected to hate the kiss, yet you don’t detest it as much as you thought you would.

While Crowley is distracted, you fly both of you to his room. Once you land, he breaks the kiss, looking at you in surprise. You push his hand from your waist and reach behind you, loosening the laces of the corset. Crowley watches as you unhook the front of the corset and let the material fall, leaving you in only your high heels and a pair of panties.

“Y/N!” Crowley says in shock, clearly trying to keep his eyes from roaming your body, “What are you doing? I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t,” you answer, “But in order to solidify the bond, we have to consummate it. Is that a problem?” You step out of your dress, pressing yourself up against Crowley. This wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to do, but it was something you had to do to fulfill your promise to uphold the treaty. His hands find your hips, his skin hot against yours.

“It -” Crowley begins, but you cut him off by kissing him again. Crowley’s hands move to your shoulders, pushing you away from him and breaking the kiss. “Why are you doing this?” Crowley asks.

“Because it has to be done,” you answer, “It’s how the bonding process is completed.”

“Is that the only reason?” Crowley asks.

“Of course it is,” you answer, “What other reason would I have?”

“Then yes, it is a problem,” Crowley rejects you.

“Why?” you ask, offended.

“I told you I would never make you do anything you weren’t willing to do,” Crowley answers.

“But I am willing,” you protest, “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“Not like this,” Crowley tells you, “Wanting to do something because you want to do it and wanting to do something because you feel honor bound to do it are two different things. You’re right, I do want you, but I won’t act on those desires until you want me for reasons other than upholding some silly treaty.”

“It isn’t some silly treaty,” you protest. Crowley was frustrating. Why was he refusing to uphold his end of the treaty; and if he really did want you, then why wasn’t he taking advantage of this?

“You should sleep here tonight in order to keep up appearances,” Crowley continues, ignoring your protests, “I have extra clothing in the closet that you can borrow. You can have the bed; I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“I don’t sleep,” you say softly, crossing your arms over your chest in order to cover yourself up.

“Still, you can have the bed,” Crowley tells you. Snapping his fingers, his clothing changes into a set of pajamas. He moves to the sofa and lies down with his back toward you, leaving you standing nearly naked in the middle of the room, the feeling of rejection eating away at you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Treaty is so beautiful. Please write more parts of it. I love your writing! AND Dear Chuck, please write another part to treaty. Crowley deserves so much better than he got on the show. AND If you’re up to it, would you consider writing another part to Treaty, your Crowley x angel reader fic? Please??? AND Please tell me you’re planning on writing another part to Treaty. I really need the reader to fall in love with him because he deserves so much love!
> 
> Summary: The reader tries to get used to her new role as Queen of Hell, but her first day doesn’t go as smoothly as she would have hoped.

Warnings: Feelings of rejection, injured!reader, mentions of violence/inflicted wounds/blood

Fic:

You lie awake on Crowley’s bed for the rest of the night. Your mind races with the thoughts of something you might have done to make Crowley reject you. He had seemed eager to bond to you before, so why had he changed his mind right before completing the process? Turning your head to the side, you find Crowley fast asleep on the sofa, his back still turned to you. His rejection still made no sense.

Sighing, you look back up to the ceiling. Holding your hand out in front of you, you let your grace swirl between your fingers, only it wasn’t your grace any longer. The shimmering pink smoke that twists around your hand no longer belongs to you. A part of your grace would always be Crowley’s, and sickeningly enough, the demon who had currently thrown you aside would always be with you.

When Crowley finally wakes, you sit up on the bed and wait for him to come to you, to look your way, to say something, anything, but he just walks past you. He moves to his closet, opens it, and looks inside before he snaps his fingers. It looks as if he hadn’t just woken from sleep. His messy hair has fixed itself and he’s now dressed in one of his many suits.

“Where are you going?” you ask as he reaches for the handle of his bedroom door.

“To work,” Crowley answers, “I do have a kingdom to rule.”

“Let me come with you,” you insist. At this point, you’d be willing to do almost anything in order to escape the rooms you’d been confined to, even if that meant spending more time in Crowley’s presence.

“You wouldn’t find it interesting,” Crowley replies, “I rarely do.”

“You called me your Queen,” you tell him, “If that’s true, shouldn’t I be by your side at all of your meetings?” Even if the meetings were boring, you might overhear something that could help your brothers and sisters in Heaven, or even the hunters on Earth.

Crowley hesitates, as if pondering how to answer. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Crowley says, “I’ll be in the throne room. Meet me there when you’re ready.” With that, Crowley leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

Looking down at the shirt you’re wearing, you decide it’s best to go back to your room and change. It probably wouldn’t do to show up in the throne room wearing Crowley’s shirt. Flapping your wings, you fly back to your room.

“There you are,” Marion says as you land. She’s reclined in a chair in the corner of your room, flipping through a magazine.

“How long have you been waiting here?” you ask.

“Long enough,” she shrugs, tossing the magazine onto your nightstand, “How was your first night with your King?” She has a teasing smile as if she’s trying to imply something; you’re not sure what.

“He’s not my king,” you answer.

“Your husband then,” Marion says. She stands and takes your hands, guiding you to sit in front of your vanity mirror. “You wear his clothing now, do you?” she teases, plucking the shirt between her fingers.

“I couldn’t wear that monstrosity of a dress to sleep in,” you reply, making her laugh.

“No, I’m sure Crowley tore it off you the second he got you alone,” she says.

“He didn’t,” you answer. Marion draws a brush through your hair, combing out the knots before she begins styling it.

“I never took him for the gentle type,” Marion says, “Though I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hurt his queen. Plus you’re an angel. I’m not sure what you guys are into, maybe he wanted to find out before things got too rough. Was he gentle with you?” You weren’t exactly sure what she was talking about, but you got the general idea.

“He was gentle,” you answer, not wanting her to know that the bond wasn’t completely solidified. Marion stops styling your hair and her gaze meets yours in the mirror.

“Good,” Marion says, “Because if he hurt my friend, he’d have to answer to me.”

“Friend?” you ask as she moves on to working on your makeup.

“Sure,” she shrugs, “I know you’re an angel and I’m a demon, but I like to think I can call you a friend. Maybe I was being presumptuous, you being the Queen and all.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“What for?” Marion asks.

“For saying you’re my friend,” you tell her, “I don’t have any here.”

“Well, you have me,” she tells you, “Now hold still.” Marion finishes your makeup before heading to your closet to pick out a dress. “What about this one?” she asks, showing you an elegant burgundy colored dress.

“I don’t mean to offend,” you say, “But is there anything that looks a little less … demonic?”

Marion hangs the dress back on the rack and searches for another option. “What about this one?” she asks, “It looks a little more angelic, if you ask me.” She pulls a cream colored dress, shaped like the one you had worn the night before. The corset of the dress is embroidered and beaded with intricate golden detail that flows down into the skirt.

“It’s perfect,” you answer, making her smile.

Marion helps you into the dress. Once again, the corset top makes it difficult to breathe. “Stay right here,” Marion instructs as she heads to your jewelry box, “I found these and thought they might be appropriate.”

Moving to stand in front of you, Marion reveals the jewelry she’d picked out. The golden necklace sports a heart shaped pendant, a wing composing each half of the heart. The two wings are folded around a teardrop shaped diamond.

The earnings she had picked out to match are each a wing hanging from a diamond stud. Each wing decorated with tiny diamonds along the ridge. Marion finishes off the set with a golden ring that is shaped like feather. The single feather wraps around your finger creating a spiral.

“You look like a proper queen,” Marion says, examining her work.

“Thanks to you,” you tell her.

“Remember to keep your head held up when you walk in,” Marion tells you as she fluffs out the skirt of your dress, “Push past the demons if you have to, but don’t move out of the way for any of them; and don’t betray any emotion if you can help it. They’ll respect you more if they think you’ll kill them without a second thought.”

“I would,” you reply.

“Good,” Marion says, “Make sure they believe it. Now go knock ‘em dead.”

***

You keep your head held high as you make your way to the throne room, just as Marion had instructed. Some demons give you dirty looks as you pass by. Others kneel and bow their heads, making you more than a little uncomfortable. Still others mutter ‘your majesty’ as they pass, keeping their glaze on the floor.

When you reach the doors of the throne room, you take a moment to steady yourself before throwing the doors open. Crowley, who had been slumped in his throne, quickly sits up straighter when he realizes it’s you walking into the room. With a simple wave of his hand, his minions make way for you, clearing a path.

Crowley stands as you make your way to the front of the room. He holds out his hand to you and you slip your hand into his. “My Queen,” Crowley says, bringing your hand to his lips. He presses a kiss to your knuckles before guiding you to a throne beside his own. You take your seat, your skirt puffing out around you.

“Continue,” Crowley says, waving his hand toward the crowd.

He was right, listening to the problems these demons faced was very uninteresting. Your mind wandered off more than once. Now and again, Crowley would ask your opinion on this matter or that. He agreed with you each time, most likely to show his demons the solidarity your ‘bond’ had created between Heaven and Hell.

During a particularly boring complaint, you notice Crowley’s hand inching closer to your own. The side of his hand brushes yours and when you look to him, you notice him watching you, as if trying to gauge your reaction. You wonder what reaction he’s looking for, but you figure it’s best to take his hand in order to uphold appearances.

Crowley holds your hand for the rest of the meeting, his thumb tracing absent minded patterns across your skin. When the final complaint has been heard, Crowley commands his minions out of the room. “You look beautiful, my Queen,” Crowley compliments.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, still not used to getting compliments from him.

“So,” he says, “Was the meeting everything you wanted it to be?”

“You were right,” you admit, “It was boring.”

“You didn’t think I was lying, did you?” Crowley asks, a little smirk on his lips.

“We may be in the process of bonding,” you tell him, trying your hand at sarcasm, “But that doesn’t mean I believe you’re above lying to me,” You smirk in return, making him laugh.

“Will you join me for dinner later?” Crowley asks.

“You know I don’t eat,” you remind him.

“Still,” Crowley insists, “I enjoy your company.” You weren’t sure how much someone could possibly enjoy the awkward silence you usually shared with Crowley during your dinner dates, but you thought it better not to refuse him.

“I’ll meet you there,” you promise.

“Good,” Crowley says, “I have some business to attend to outside these walls. I believe it’s best if you stay here. I’ll see you later, Love.” He brings your hand to his lips one last time and places a kiss there before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

Crowley’s departure leaves you alone once again. You sigh before standing and making your way into the hallway. The mansion you were now prisoner in was huge and you had yet to explore the whole building. You decide to wander the halls in search of a way to occupy your time. If you were lucky, you might meet Marion along the way so that you might have a companion to explore with.

Each room you peek into is different. Some are bedrooms, others bathrooms, sitting rooms, libraries, an office, a game room. You find an expansive room filled with old scrolls and you can’t stop yourself from exploring further. You pluck one of the scrolls from its place on the shelf and open it. The scroll tells you of a deal that had been made eight years ago; the human had exchanged their soul for ten years in a successful career.

You scoff and shake your head as you place the scroll back in its rightful place. It amazed you that humans were willing to trade something as precious as their soul for things that seemed so trivial. You turn your attention to the center of the room. A desk sits there with a scroll laid out across it. You recognized this scroll. Crowley’s name was written out near the bottom of the paper, Castiel’s just beneath it. You trace your fingers over your brother’s name, wondering how things were going in Heaven. These two signatures had changed your life for the rest of eternity.

“You shouldn’t be here, your majesty,” an unfamiliar voice tells you, pulling you out of your thoughts. When you turn to face the intruder, you find a black eyed demon with a knife in his hand.

“I’ll be going then,” you say.

“Not so fast,” another demon says as it appears behind you.

“You may be Crowley’s Queen, but you aren’t ours,” a third adds.

“Have you forgotten that I’m an angel?” you ask them, “Those knives won’t kill me.”

“No, but this will,” a fourth demon says as she appears right behind you. She grabs you around the waist and holds you close to her, an angel blade pressed right up against your neck. You swallow hard, holding as still as you can as you think out your first move.

The other three demons close in, weapons ready for the attack. They didn’t want to kill you right away, that was obvious. It was also fortunate for you. If these demons wanted to spend time torturing you, it would only give you a better chance of escape. You wait until the other three demons are within arm’s reach before you make a move.

In one swift motion, you reach behind you and press your palm to the demon’s forehead. Her eyes glow bright as you smite her. She flinches as she dies, the action drawing the blade across your throat and leaving a small cut. You scream as your grace gleams through the wound.

The other demons lunge at you, cutting and stabbing with their knives. You fall to the floor, reaching desperately for the angle blade the dead demon had dropped. Screams fall from your lips as the demons tear at your flesh, blood seeping from the wounds.

One demon comes close enough that you can press your hand to its forehead, smiting it. The other demons back away for a second, allowing you to grab the angel blade. Suddenly, the door swings open, Marion rushing in.

“Y/N!” she screams, rushing toward you.

You throw the blade, plunging it deep into one of the demons’ stomach. Marion drops to your side as the last demon smokes out.

“I’m so sorry,” Marion says, pressing her hands to your wounds and trying to stop the bleeding.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you choke out, the cut across your throat causing you the most pain.

“It was,” Marion protests, “Crowley told me to watch out for you. He’s going to kill me.”

“I thought he told you to keep me locked up,” you struggle to say.

“He told me to protect you,” Marion corrects you, “And I failed.” You try to protest, but she stops you. “Come on,” she insists, “Let’s get back to your room so you can heal.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests: Please write more parts to Treaty. It’s such a great story! AND Would you be willing to write more of treaty? I’d love it if you did. AND Pretty please could you write more parts to your Crowley x angel!Reader story? AND This is absolutely amazing!!!!!! If you could do some more I’d love you for it!!!

Warnings: Mentions/description of torture, minor character death, mentions of Reader’s injuries

Fic:

“Who was it?” Crowley asks angrily as he paces back and forth at the foot of your bed. You’d seen the King of Hell agitated before, but nothing like this.

Your bloody, tattered dress lies in a pile on the floor. After the attack, Marion had helped you back to your room and cleaned the blood from your skin. As you began to heal, she helped you into a pair of comfortable pajamas before helping you into bed to rest.

“I’m not sure, your Majesty,” Marion answers softly, “I didn’t get a good look.”

“Why weren’t you with her?” Crowley demands, “You were under strict orders to protect her. I told you that if any harm came to her, I’d-“

“Stop,” you interrupt, the cut in your throat making your voice scratchy, “Crowley, it wasn’t Marion’s fault. I went exploring on my own and I wasn’t paying attention. If I had, I might have been able to better protect myself.”

“This should never have happened,” Crowley says as he comes to sit on the bed beside you. He brushes your hair behind your ear and cups your cheek gently. “The three you killed got off easy. When I find out who the fourth demon was, they’ll regret ever having been born. And you …” He points to Marion, “You will regret ever having let Y/N out of your sight.”

Reaching up, you grab Crowley’s hand, making sure he can’t make a motion to harm Marion. “I said it wasn’t her fault,” you repeat, “She will suffer no punishment for this.”

Crowley gives you a look of confusion. “Are you granting mercy to a demon?” he asks.

“Marion is my friend,” you answer, “The only one I have here. I won’t let you harm her in any way, is that understood?” You let your grace shine through your eyes for emphasis.

Crowley examines you carefully, weighing your threat. “As you wish, my Queen,” he concedes, “However, the fact still remains that the demon that did this to you is hiding out there somewhere. When I discover who this demon is, they will be punished; and I promise you, I will find them.” With a snap of his fingers, Crowley is gone. 

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Marion says, bowing to you.

“Don’t call me that,” you say, “And don’t bow. You’re my friend, not my subject.”

“You saved my life,” she tells you, “Crowley would’ve killed me if it weren’t for you.” She slumps onto your bed as if all her energy had been sapped, shock still invading her features.

“I’m the reason he almost killed you,” you correct.

“Still,” Marion says, “You stood up for me. How many angels would do that for a demon?”

“Lie down,” you instruct, moving over on the bed so Marion has room to lie beside you, “Besides, I owed you. That demon might’ve killed me if you hadn’t intervened when you did, so thank you too.”

“You should get some sleep,” Marion suggests as she settles in, “It might help you heal faster.”

“I don’t sleep,” you tell her, “I just lie there and stare at the ceiling until it’s an appropriate time to get out of bed.”

“Oh,” Marion says, “I thought you said - never mind… I hope you did more than stare at the ceiling while you were with Crowley last night.” Turning your head to look at her, you narrow your eyes at the teasing smirk she wears.

“That’s all I did, in fact,” you admit.

“Really?” Marion asks, “I don’t have any personal experience, but I figured Crowley would’ve been a better lover than that.” She turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow so that she can see you better.

Sighing heavily, you decide Marion is trustworthy enough to know the truth about your bond with the King of Hell. “You have to promise not to tell anyone,” you instruct. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die … again,” she replies, drawing an x over her heart with her fingertip.

“He wouldn’t touch me,” you explain, “I offered myself to him and he rejected me.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Marion says, “He’s so in love with you and he doesn’t seem like the type to pass up an opportunity like that.”

“He doesn’t love me,” you state, “Any relationship he has with me is simply an arrangement to keep the peace between Heaven and Hell, you know that as well as I do.”

“You obviously don’t see what I see,” Marion scoffs.

“And what’s that?”

“The man’s enamored with you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“The way he looks at you? Come on, you have to have noticed that.”

“He’s never looked at me any differently.”

“Then he’s always been in love. He’ll never admit it, but he’s a very sensitive man. He loves you and I can see it written all over his face.”

“I believe you’re seeing things that aren’t there,” you sigh as you look back up to the ceiling.

“So what did happen after the ceremony last night?” Marion asks as she rolls onto her back.

“I kissed him,” you answer, “I thought he enjoyed it. Then I flew us back to his room and took off my dress. I told him that in order to complete the bonding process, we had to consummate the bond; but instead of following through, he refused to touch me.”

“Well that’s just about the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Marion informs you.

“There needn’t be any romance,” you reply.

“For Crowley there does,” Marion says, “Out of all the angels in Heaven, he chose to bond with you. He chose you for a reason, and before he can be with you he needs you to feel the same way about him that he feels about you.”

“How can you possibly know that?” you question, “Besides, my brother requested that I be the one to uphold the treaty. Crowley didn’t choose me.”

“I was human once,” she answers with a shrug, “I know what love looks like, or I used to anyway. Crowley most certainly loves you. Whether or not you love him is a different story, but until he knows you feel something for him Crowley can’t consummate your bond, or however you put it.”

“I’ve never been human and I’ve spent very little time on Earth,” you tell her, “I’ve never experienced love or if I did, I didn’t recognize it. How can Crowley expect me to feel something I’ve never felt?”

“Give it time,” Marion suggests, “It’s not always love at first sight. Maybe you don’t care for him now, but I bet you never thought you’d be friends with a demon either.”

***

“Y/N, wake up,” Marion’s voice cuts through the haze. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you wake to find Marion standing beside your bed. “For someone who doesn’t sleep, you snore like a tornado chasing down a freight train.”

“I don’t sleep and I certainly don’t snore,” you protest. Something about your bond with Crowley must be changing you. Perhaps bonding with a demon is making you less angelic and more demonic. The thought disturbs you.

“Tell that to my poor ears,” Marion laughs, “Now get up. Crowley found the demon who attacked you. He wants you there when the demon dies.”

Getting out of bed, you find your vessel completely healed. You look as if you’d never even been touched by the edge of a knife. Marion instructs you how to act as she picks out your outfit, something angelic, yet fearsome, and does your makeup to match.

“Remember to stand tall,” Marion instructs as she walks down the halls beside you, “And keep your head held high. Act as if this whole trial is beneath you and that being there is a waste of your time.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” you tell her.

“Good,” Marion says.

Two demons open the doors of the throne room as you approach. Walking inside, you find a crowd gathered around the center of the room. A chain hangs from the ceiling near the center of the crowd.

“My Queen,” Crowley announces as you enter. He stands from his throne and makes his way through the crowd. The crowd parts for you allowing you to see the demon who had attacked you kneeling on the floor, chains binding its hands above its head.

Crowley comes you and extends a hand. You take it and allow him to guide you up to the captured demon. The demon had been forced back into its meat suit and it had clearly been tortured. It wears the same cuts that had been made on your body, plus a few other wounds that you were sure Crowley had added for good measure.

“I warned you, anyone who even so much as thought of harming my Queen would suffer,” Crowley says loud enough for the crowd to hear, “Did you think I was lying?”

“No, your Majesty,” the demon whispers.

“Then why did you attack my Queen?” Crowley questions.

“I only wanted to save Hell from the mistake you made, your Majesty,” the demon says spitefully. Crowley is clearly irritated by the comment. Squeezing his hand, you stop him from taking any action.

“I understand how you feel,” you tell the demon as you move closer, “A treaty between Heaven and Hell seemed inconceivable to me as well.” Dropping to your knees before the demon, you cup its cheek gently and encourage it to look at you. “You were only doing what you thought was right,” you continue, “I can hardly blame you for that.”

“Have mercy on me,” the demon requests.

“Are you truly sorry for what you did to me?” you question.

“Yes, my Queen,” the demon professes, “I’m truly sorry and I’ve learned from my mistake.”

“Good,” you say as you stand before the demon. You hook two fingers beneath the demon’s chin and gently encourage it to look up at you as you stand. “I will grant you mercy,” you announce, “Just as I granted mercy to the three other demons who saw fit to attack their Queen.”

The demon’s expression turns to one of panic, but it barely gets a chance to scream before you place your palm against its forehead and smite it with a brilliant show of light. Once the demon is dead, you wipe your hand on your dress as if the thought of even touching a demon disgusts you. Without another word, you march out of the throne room, the crowd giving you a wide berth as you exit.

“Impressive,” Marion compliments quietly as she falls into step beside you.


End file.
